


Thaw

by Aramley



Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: War of the Damned
Genre: M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2013-03-30
Packaged: 2017-12-06 22:41:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/740982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aramley/pseuds/Aramley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He thinks that if Nasir wishes, he will go down the mountain and face a cohort. He will find a bear, if any live in such frozen wastes, and fight it, and so make amends.</i>
</p><p>Missing scene ficlet from 3x07 (Mors Indecepta).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thaw

**Author's Note:**

> Spartacus ate my life.

Agron finds Nasir in the lee of a makeshift shelter, stealing a solitary moment between duties. With so many bodies packed close for warmth their rough encampment offers little in the way of peace - what there is to be found lies outside the tents and away from the fires. Nasir, trading comfort for solitude, looks up as Agron rounds the shelter.

"Am I wanted?" he asks, wary.

"Not yet," Agron says. "Although I would break words, if you are of a mind."

"That will depend on their manner," Nasir says, avoiding Agron's eye. He blows warm air onto his clasped fingers.

"You are cold," Agron says, stepping closer.

Nasir smiles tightly, lips cracked with the chill. "Who is not? Or perhaps this is a balmy day, east of the Rhine?"

"Temperate as midsummer," Agron lies. He reaches out to take Nasir's hands between his own, and is relieved when Nasir lets him. He chafes warmth into them - soft hands once, now roughened with hard use and sword-work, friction of scars and callouses against Agron's palms. 

"It has passed mind," Agron begins, halting, looking at their joined hands, "that in Sinuessa, before the attack, I spoke words that - that were perhaps - "

He dares a look at Nasir's face. Nasir looks back, calmly allowing Agron to wriggle on this hook of his own making. One eyebrow raises fractionally: _and? so?_ Something that might be suppressed amusement sits in the glint of his eyes, something else more like hurt in the set of his jaw. The only way out is through - Agron breathes in, and continues, "I was wrong to cast doubt upon you. Only that I did not trust - nothing good ever came to me that was not taken away."

Nasir exhales a long breath, softening but not relenting. "That cannot always be your excuse."

"To unlearn lessons taught in the course of a lifetime is no small undertaking."

"As I well know," Nasir says. His chin tilts up, defiant. "You taught me freedom. No man now claims ownership of my body. What I give to you - my heart - I give freely and of my own choice."

"Yet what has been given may be taken," Agron says. 

"It has not nor will it be, but yes," says Nasir. He laughs softly. "And so we stand cornered by Romans on a frozen mountain. Victories have spoiled you. Had you thought freedom easy?"

Nasir's hands have turned in Agron's grasp; it is hard now to say who is warming whom. Their fingers tangle and grip.

"You say I taught you freedom," Agron says, after a long moment. "Now it would appear that you teach me."

"We teach each other," Nasir says, with a pressure on Agron's hands somewhere between a caress and a reprimand, "and so stand equal."

"Ready answer for every fucking word," Agron complains, and bends to stop any further remark. Nasir's mouth curves against his and opens, warm and beloved, familiar and vital. Their hands untangle and find better purchase, Agron cupping Nasir's face and the slope of his neck, Nasir's skimming beneath Agron's heavy cloak to rest against his sides, warmed but still cold enough to raise a shiver.

"I cannot swear to be other than I am," Agron murmurs against the bow of Nasir's lips, when the kiss breaks. "But I may promise to make attempt, in future, to be less -"

"Thick-skulled?" Nasir offers, which Agron treats with the sharp bite to lower lip that it invites and deserves. Nasir's smile catches on a seized breath. "Oaths sealed with deeds may prove strongest."

Agron swallows, caught. "And what would you have me do?"

He thinks that if Nasir wishes, he will go down the mountain and face a cohort. He will find a bear, if any live in such frozen wastes, and fight it, and so make amends.

"Nothing beyond your reach," Nasir says. He draws back just far enough to look Agron in the eye. "Free Castus."

Agron huffs. " _Only_ that." The anger - red-hot, irrational - flares again. On balance, he would prefer the bear.

"Only that," Nasir says, lightly enough that it would be easy to overlook the iron behind it.

Agron's instincts say, know when you're defeated. He rolls his eyes. "If he lays hand upon you -"

"I will remove it," Nasir insists. "Above the wrist, if occasion calls."

"I will keep both fucking eyes upon him."

Nasir nudges in closer, sharing heat between their bodies and pressing kisses along the line of Agron's jaw - an unfair move, particularly when coupled with the way his hands slip down Agron's bare sides under his cloak - down, and down.

"Then let us withdraw," he teases, "and find them better occupation while we may."


End file.
